


Petals

by coveredbyroses



Series: 2019 SPN Kink Bingo [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-13 04:02:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18461087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coveredbyroses/pseuds/coveredbyroses
Summary: Valentine’s Day has no place in the life of a hunter…or does it?





	Petals

Maybe there was a time when you’d expect flowers and chocolates on the fourteenth of this month, a time when you might get all dolled up in ruby lips and smokey eyes for a romantic evening of overpriced seafood and bitter wine. Maybe you’d come home to a drawn bath with floating rose petals and scented candles - but those are just little girls’ fantasies; they’ve no place in the life of a hunter.

It’s a little past eight p.m when you get back to the bunker, paper grocery bags tucked in both arms, cheeks stinging from the frigid Kansas air that always comes with this time of year.

The kitchen’s empty, only the hum of the refrigerator keeping you company as you clunk the bags on the metal island. It’s oddly comforting; the mundane, normal task of putting away groceries. You’re not nose-deep in lore, or sharpening blades - it’s just a simple, domestic thing.

It isn’t that you  _hate_ Valentine’s Day per se…it’s just not an expectation - it isn’t practical. So when you reach the hallway to the bedroom, you’re understandably dumbfounded at the trail of velvet crimson petals trailing the floor. They stop just in front of door eleven, where a haze of warm light peeks through the crack at the bottom.

You and Dean have been dating just a little over eight months now, and the romance is about as story-book as you might expect for the life; date nights at seedy bars, long walks through scenic graveyards, and who needs candles when you have a burning corpse just in front of you?

This is a gesture you’d never expect, especially from someone as hunt-hardened as Dean Winchester. You’re already beaming, thrumming with so much nervous excitement that you have to press a palm to your mouth compose yourself before turning the brass knob.

Dean’s hunched over the bed when you come in, still arranging the petals over the beige blanket. He straightens as soon as he catches your arrival, nervously scratches his head as he purposely avoids your eyes. “H-hey, I um, sorry. I wasn’t expecting you so soon.”

It’s stupid, you know it is, but you can’t stop the spring of hot tears stinging at your eyes. “Dean…this is…wow.” You hide the break in your voice with a breathy laugh as you scan the scene.

The lights are off, the room aglow with flickering candles that make shadows dance along the walls. The bed’s perfectly made, scattered petals an almost blood red in the dim light.

“I just,” Dean chances, open palm gesturing toward the intimate display. “I dunno. It’s our first Valentine’s and chicks dig this shit, right?”

You laugh at that, at his go-to coverage of anything remotely sappy. “We do,” you agree, nodding. “But you didn’t have to.”

He shrugs, takes a step forward, eyes finally on yours. “I wanted to.”

You smile. “I love it.”

Dean leans into you then, ducking down for a kiss. He cups your jaw in his massive hands, your own finding his shoulder blades, warm and thick under his green henley. You sigh into him when he deepens the kiss, hot tongue gliding wet over your bottom lip; coaxing. Heat floods your cheeks when he licks into your mouth, and you crush yourself harder against him, can feel the metal of his belt buckle press into your belly.

The moment ends too quickly, lips pulling away with a soft smack, but then he’s pushing your jacket from your shoulders, lets it fall to the floor with a dull thud.

“Where’s Sam?” you ask, breathy.

“Out. For the night.” His voice is gravelly-deep, hits you in the bone.

“Good,” you whisper. “That’s good.”

He gathers your t-shirt in his hands, and you lift your arms high over your head, let him peel it off of you. His hands drop to your breasts, squeezing you through padded lace while you card your fingers through his hair.

Warm lips drop to the curve of your neck, open and wet. He’s bowed over a little with the height difference, so you take the opportunity to fist the back of his shirt and jerk it over his head. Dean breaks away so you can wrench the material down his bulky arms.

You reach behind you, snap your bra open to let it slip off your shoulders and Dean makes a sound low in his throat. He wraps a heavy arm around you, pulling so that your tits are smushed against his hard chest. Hand back at your jaw, he tips your head back so he can push his lips back to yours, fingers leaving your back to pluck at the button of your jeans. You moan, the sound thick in the air when Dean shoves a hand down underneath your panties, fingers delving, slipping through the wetness there. He moans rights back, the vibrations of it buzzing at your lips.

Your hands are clumsy as they fumble for his belt, but you finally manage to unfasten him, and his hips jerk as you pull him free, fingers wrapping around his thick warmth. You suck your lip into your mouth, teeth sinking into the skin just below the pillowy line as you start to pump him, feeling how nicely he swells against your palm.

Dean pulls away with a deep groan, hand closing around your wrist. You release him when he starts to back toward the bed, then furiously push your jeans and panties down, kicking them away before collapsing against petals and cotton.

You get comfortable, scooting until your head can fall against the plush pillows. Dean crawls over you, delightfully naked, settling so that he can drop his hips against yours. You gasp at the sensation of his cock; warm and hard against your thigh as he mouths at the long line of your throat.  

Already breathless, you loop your arms around his neck as he lines up, the air locking in your throat as he pushes forward. He easily slides through your warm wetness, lips parting and brows scrunching as he buries himself deep.

“Dean,” you whisper, and then he’s dropping down to his forearms, hitching himself forward as he starts to thrust; slow and steady, the wide girth of him dragging so  _nicely_ against your sensitive walls.

His lips fall against yours once again, stealing your already shallow breath as he fucks into you. Your bring your thighs up, ankles locking above his ass, palms dragging over the coarse stubble of his cheeks and jaw.

“G-god,” you rasp against his mouth, fingers curving around the warm shells of his ears. Dean grunts his agreement, then pulls away so he can plunge a little harder. Your draw your legs up tighter so he can hit deeper-

“Fuck!” It’s more of a squeak than a word, and you might be embarrassed about it if you weren’t so foggy with the building pressure.

Dean curses back, grunts your name as he picks up speed, and even though you’re struggling to keep your eyes open, you catch a glimpse of the sweat beading along his upper lip and the blown pupils flooding out the green of his eyes. He shifts to one arm so he can get hand between you, calloused fingers swiping over your clit. You drag in a sharp breath of air as the pleasure intensifies, hips bucking against his. He’s pressing firm circles into you, pumping so deep-

You come with a keening cry, fluttering around him as your nails scrape down the length of his neck. He shudders at the feel of it, moans melting into sharp grunts just before he goes taut and shaking. Wet heat floods your lower belly as he keeps rocking into you slower…and slower…and slower…before he stops completely.

His face drops to the damp slope of your neck, breath pulsing against you as you smooth your hands over the top of his head and across his shoulders. “I love you,” you whisper, palms flattening against his heated skin.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he mumbles back, and as you bask in the glow of it all, you think that maybe fantasies aren’t just for little girls.


End file.
